Timeline Tangle
by D. Daniels
Summary: Someone other than the archeologists is trapped back in time. Will she find a way to return to the future? Will she really want to? Rated M for mature situations and sexual content. Think trashy romance novel.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Timeline in either book or movie form. I merely built on an existing foundation.

A pile of straw is not the most comfortable place to sleep, although, considering the circumstances, it could be much worse. At least the sheets were clean and the fleas were minimal. I rolled over in my bed and the straw-filled mattress crackled in my ear. What I wouldn't give for a proper posture-pedic mattress and box- spring. But, I had made my bed (so to speak) and now I must lie in it. (Literally.)

I wondered for what must have been the millionth time how on Earth people survived this time and evolved into what I had come from. The rabid technology that I grew up with was at complete odds with my current surroundings. I rolled onto my back and stared at the timbers that supported the dry thatch of the roof. The dawn filtered in through the cracks in the closed shutters at the window.

Reluctantly, I rose from my bed to begin my day. I pulled the chemise that I slept in off and took a clean one from the trunk at the foot of my bed. I pulled it on and straightened it so that it fell loosely to its ankle length hem. Over that I donned a tight fitting dark grey kirtle. The lack of proper underwear still disturbed me, but I was getting used to it. Over the kirtle went a sleeveless over gown of a pale grey. I combed out my long hair with my fingers and quickly plaited it into a braid that I secured by tying a piece of leather around it.

Once presentable, I hurried out of the small room that I shared with two of the kitchen maids to begin my day. It hadn't been as difficult as I thought it would be to secure a position as a seamstress in the house of Lord Oliver. But, then again, nobody in this century asks for identification or checks references. All that was required was a demonstration of my proficiency with a needle and thread and I was gainfully employed, had a place to sleep and meals provided.

Of course, I knew that this job couldn't last forever. The day was fast approaching when I'd have to make an escape from the village of Castle Guard. For I knew that the English would burn it all to the ground before moving to the fortress, La Rocque, there to be defeated by the French.

How did I know? Because where I was from, it had already happened. Or perhaps that should be "when" I was from. 650 years from now, I'll have read all about the battle and the events leading up to it in history books. I'll read every report submitted by the archeologists on the dig in the Dordogne funded by ITC.

The dig however was nothing but a side project for Robert Doniger, who owned ITC. He had little, if any, interest in archeology or history. What he wanted to know was why his new invention, which was supposed to transmit physical matter from place to place, was instead sending it back in time to Castle Guard, France in the year 1357.

For me, though was a dream come true, despite the hardships. I loved history of any kind and was especially fascinated by the Middle Ages. I had majored in Medieval Studies in College. I'd learned Latin and Middle French and English (a skill that served me well, now although what I learned wasn't nearly as accurate as my professors had claimed).

History wasn't merely my chosen profession it was also my hobby. I was in my freshman year at college when I discovered the Society for Creative Anachronism. This group of people that went beyond merely researching the Middle Ages intrigued me. They dressed in the clothes, cooked the food, behaved with chivalry, took part in combat and practiced many other aspects of that time that we modern day people so love to romanticize. I enjoyed being with people that shared my interests and gave me an outlet to indulge my passion.

Unfortunately, none of my past had truly prepared me for the reality of my present. Many things about the Middle Ages are vastly different from what scholars deduced in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The most profound of these differences to me was the truth about chivalry. Now, don't get me wrong, it did actually exist. But mostly as the game of "Courtly Love" in the court of Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine. Unfortunately, they've both been dead for more than a century and a half. And it didn't extend to "the little people". In other words, if you weren't of noble birth, you weren't worthy of chivalry. Women are possessions and if a woman doesn't have an owner (a father, husband, brother or other male family member) to protect her, then she is considered fair game for all. But a male protector is no guarantee of chivalrous treatment. If a randy knight on the make believes that he can defeat your protector, he may try to harm or abduct you anyway.

I've taken to keeping a dagger in my right stocking. (Just to be safe.) For the frightening truth was that I hadn't seen my partner in more than two weeks. I had no idea what had happened to Vince. We had been sent for a six-hour observation mission. (Obviously, we are way overdue returning to our century of origin.) The fact of the matter was, that I was now stuck here. Our markers expired after six hours and no longer would take us home. Vince and I had become separated and were to meet at the stable. He never made it to our rendezvous and my marker expired while I waited for him. I had to believe that he was here somewhere, but if so, why hadn't he found me yet?

So, here I was, day eighteen of living in the past. My fingers hurt from the constant hand sewing.

I hated hand sewing. I despised it with every fiber of my being. Now, I was trapped in the ladies solar, doing it all of the time and learning nothing except how to make my fingers bleed. I really wished that if I had to be stuck here, that I could at least have been a bit more productive.

Perhaps I could play hooky? Had the concept been invented yet?

But no, Lord Oliver needed a new tabard, the Lady needed yet another gown, and there were the myriad of tablecloths, sheets, tapestries and alter cloths needing to be finished.


	2. Chapter 2

I entered the solar and made my curtsy to Lady Elaine. She told me to sit by the window with Margaret and Eleanor. I curtsied to these two amiable young ladies and joined them. I listened to their friendly conversation as we all stitched on a tapestry depicting a woodland scene of fantastical animals.

I had been surprised at the quality of the fabric and thread. Having tried my hand at weaving in my proper time, I had expected coarse materials. Therefore, I was rather surprised to discover that one who had been born in this time and raised practicing the homemaking arts of the day could quite proficiently produce fine cloth that could rival the texture produced by any machine in the twenty-first century.

We had been stitching for several hours when a page came to summon me. I followed him to the great hall where I was presented to Lord Oliver and his aide-de-camp, Sir William de Kere. I dropped them both a curtsey while trying to quell the uneasy feeling that rose within me every time I was near Sir William. I couldn't help the feeling that something about him wasn't right. It was non-specific, but bothered me, just the same.

Sir William explained that as the newest member of the house, it was easiest for me to assume a new duty, so I was to assist a learned man in creating a new weapon for Lord Oliver. A guard brought in a man who appeared to be in his early fifties. He was clean-shaven with short, curly, grey hair. He was dressed in a long tunic and hood in a hue somewhere between blue and grey, but the thing that struck me was that he was wearing eyeglasses. But they hadn't been invented yet! That meant he had to be like me. Perhaps he had been sent to rescue me. Yet, he wore no marker around his neck. Well, perhaps he carried it somewhere else.

He was introduced to me as Edward de Johnes and called himself a magister (which is a medieval term for scientist or scholar). I curtsied to him and gave my name as Philippa Mortimer of Kent (although it is really Pippin Blake of Grand Rapids, Michigan). We followed a guard to a workroom and were left there to our task.

De Johnes and I stared at each other until he finally asked me what it was about him that so interested me. He spoke in a thick Scottish brogue and his speech was very stilted. (More so than mine.) I responded that his glasses were slipping down his nose. He reflexively reached to push them back into place, and then stopped mid-motion as it dawned on him that I had called them by their proper name.

"Have you ever heard of a man named Doniger?" he asked me.

"Do you refer to Robert Doniger?" I asked him in response.

"Oh, thank God. Can you get us out of here, lass"

I felt my heart plummet into my toes. "What? I thought you were here to rescue me!"

"Oh, no. I just came for a brief sightseeing tour. We were attacked and that coward, Frank Gordon left me behind to save his own arse."

"That sounds familiar. Vince and I got separated and he never made it back to our rendezvous."

"How long have you been stuck here?" he asked me.

"Eighteen days."

"How have you survived?"

"I'm pretty handy with a needle, so I've become one of Lady Elaine's sewing women. It's kept me fed, but doesn't give me any time to explore or try to find a means to escape this time." I explained.

"Well, we have to get out of here in the next three days. After that, there won't be anything left here," he informed me.

"The siege of La Rocque is that near?"

Edward nodded in the affirmative. "By the way, my name is really Edward Johnston," he said as he offered his hand.

"Pippin Blake," I gave him my real name as we shook hands.

"Pippin?" he raised an eyebrow.

"My mother was into The Lord of the Rings", I explained.

"Ah, and are you really from Kent,"

"Grand Rapids, Michigan," I informed him.

"Your Middle English and accent are very good," he commented.

"Thank you. I majored in Medieval Studies. What's your area of expertise?"

"I'm an archeologist."

"Are you on of the group working on the dig here?"

"I was."

An idea was forming in my head. Perhaps a means of escape could be arranged. "If we were to leave some sort of a sign or message for your team to find, would they send someone to rescue us?"

"Oh, most definitely. My son is with the team right now and I know he won't let anything stop him in getting me back."

"Okay, so where do we leave it?" I was getting excited at the thought of finally getting back to the future. (Talk about a cliché!)

"Well, it can't be here," Professor Johnston reminded me. "I know for a fact that only the foundations survive the burning.

"Then it will have to be someplace that we know will survive into the twenty-first century. Parts of the mill make it. La Rocque is somewhat still standing, but getting in there would be a nightmare."

"The monastery!" The professor interjected. "Kate has been searching it for a hidden tunnel that she believes runs from the monastery to La Rocque. I'm pretty sure if we leave some sign there, she'll find it. Do you think that we can both make it there?"

"If we want to have an escort the entire time and have Lord Oliver aware of everything we did there, then yes. But somehow, I don't think that we'll be able to explain any kind of sign we leave."

"I'd rather not have an escort. I need to try to stay away from Oliver. I had to make a rather rash promise to keep my head mounted on my neck." Johnston informed me.

I then remembered that Sir William had said something about a new weapon. My curiosity was piqued. "What exactly did you promise him?"

The professor looked down at the wooden floor and mumbled something incoherently.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," I told him. "Could you please repeat it?"

He sighed heavily and said quite clearly, "Greek Fire."

"What?" I couldn't help screeching. "You can't possibly be serious!" I was absolutely horrified. "That would give the English a great advantage. I could change the outcome of the battle for La Rocque, the Hundred Years War and all of history from this point on!"

"I know, I know," he acknowledged. "That's why I need to get away from Oliver's men."

"Okay, okay." I needed to calm down. I was bordering on hysterical. I began reciting the Hail Mary in Latin. I had made it all the way through twice before I felt sufficiently calm enough to think clearly. "Alright, what we need is a diversion and a pretext for leaving the manner. Perhaps there's an herb we need. One that we can't use dried. It needs to be fresh. That way they can't just give us one out of the kitchen. That should get us into the woods. Once there, I can distract the guard while you quietly slip away and get to the monastery. You can leave a message and claim sanctuary from Lord Oliver's men."

"It could work. It's certainly worth a try," Johnston agreed.

We called a guard and put our plan into action. It took a bit of convincing, but the guard finally agreed to accompany us to the forest on our quest. We left the manor and made our way to the wood line in the direction of the monastery. Once we were deep into the trees, we pretended to search for our invented herb. We surreptitiously moved farther apart. Once there was a good distance between us, I called the guard over to me. As I distracted him, Edward quietly slipped away. Once he was safely gone, I made a great show of singling out a particular plant and calling out, "Is this the correct one, De Johnes?"

My query (as expected) was met with silence that was only broken by the normal noise of the woods. I acted quite surprised to find myself without the magister. The guard was about to go after him when I haughtily informed him that Lady Elaine would be most displeased if he left me alone in the woods to fend for myself.

He reluctantly escorted me back to the manor. I returned to the solar and resumed sewing with the ladies. I silently prayed that the professor had safely made it to the monastery and accomplish his task. Now, I could only wait for a rescue to come.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning the servant's gossip was all about the magister that had been captured and was being held in the tower. I couldn't speak to Professor Johnston, so had no way of knowing if he was successful in his attempt to leave some sort of message for the future. But I did know that by the time the sun set the day after tomorrow, Castleguard would be smoking ruins, and La Rocque would be under siege. I had to get out of here.

Perhaps the English weren't my best chance for survival. My hope of returning to my proper century was dimming. Survival of the battle ahead and life afterward was becoming the greater priority. Armed with the knowledge that France would be the victor, not only of the battle for La Rocque, but in the Hundred Years War, perhaps they were my best chance for survival.

I determined to leave the manor house today and find the French and join them. I made my way to the kitchen and slipped out to the garden. From there it was easy to vault the low wooden fence and melt into the village.

I took in my surroundings. It never ceased to amaze me how busy it always seemed. The market was a beehive of activity. Merchants called out to the shoppers and extolled the great virtues of their wares. The clang of metal striking metal rang out from the blacksmith. Mothers called out to and reprimanded their children. In many ways it was surreal in its resemblance to twenty-first century life. Children ran and played, women shopped, men were at work, and goods were bought and sold. The only thing missing was the noise of modern technology. There were no modern machines of any kind. No cars making noise and spewing exhaust. When I gazed into the sky, there were no contrails from jet engines to mar the blue. It was almost perfect. If not for the war, it would be idyllic.

I wandered through the village. I'm sure it looked like and aimless meander to anyone watching, but my circuitous path led me ever closer to the wood line. I spied a cow out to pasture a mere ten feet from the trees. I strode up to it and petted it while checking to see if I was being observed. When I was certain that it was safe, I turned and quickly ducked into the cover of the trees.

I knelt down behind the first layer of low foliage to see if my exit had been noticed. No alarm was being raised, so I turned to get up and move away only to find my escape blocked by a pair of armor-clad knees.

My gaze traveled upward and took in the silver Fleur de Lis emblazoned on a blue tabard over a rather impressive chain mail covered chest. Just as my eyes reached the knight's face, the sun glinted off his helmet. I was unable to see his features.

"Voulez-vous aidez moi, sil-vous-plaits?" Would you please help me? I asked.

A gloved hand moved toward me. I took it in mine and he helped me to stand.

"Merci," I thanked him. I stepped to one side and was three steps past him before I heard him speak.

"Un minute, sil-vous-plaits, mam'selle?" I turned around and felt my heart lurch as I got my first good look at him. He was tall, lean, and well muscled. His face was lean, too. He wore a neatly trimmed brown beard and moustache that formed a frame for the most sensuous pair of lips I'd ever laid eyes on. His expression was serious, but a twinkle flashed in the depths of his green eyes. I couldn't help an audible gasp; so breathtaking was this specimen of medieval masculinity.

"It isn't safe for a young lady to wander about the woods alone." He informed me.

"The woods may be safer than the village at this point. I fear a French attack." I responded.

"You are bold to speak to a French Knight in such a manner."

"Not at all, monsieur. I depend on your chivalry. But I also know of your hatred of Lord Oliver and feel that the village may not be a safe haven for very long."

"It is a poor knight who cannot protect his ladies. Lord Oliver proves himself a churl and unworthy of his title in countless ways."

"No kidding." I muttered.

"What?"

"You speak the truth, good sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to seek Lord Arnaut."

"Then seek no longer, fair maid, for you have found him. What service may I do for you?" He bowed slightly.

"I would ask for your aid. As you say, Oliver is a churlish beast. I have it on good authority that he intends to burn Castleguard to the ground and move his forces to La Rocque."

"What manner of man would burn his own demesne?" Demanded Lord Arnaut.

"A mad one," I replied.

"That is the truth of it," Arnaut agreed with me. "Might I hear you name, milady?"

"I am Philippa Mortimer." I curtsied to him.

"You are English?" The very possibility seemed to make him agitated.

"No, milord. I am not English. I come from a land far away across a great sea. I owe no allegiance to Oliver or to England."

"I am glad to hear it." He smiled and it was like watching the sunrise after a long, stormy night. My heart skipped a few beats and then melted into a puddle.

He held a gloved hand out to me. "Permit me to offer you my protection, Lady Philippa."

I stepped toward him and allowed him to take my hand in his. "Thank you, Lord Arnaut. I would be most appreciative." He raised my hand and gently pressed his lips to my fingers. I couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have those sensuous lips pressed to mine. I reluctantly shook the thought away as he led me into the forest.

His horse was tethered a short distance away. It was a beautiful black destrier. He was quite obviously tired of standing still and appeared happy to see Arnaut. The knight lifted me onto the massive horses back with no more effort than a mother lifting a newborn. Once he settled himself in the saddle behind me, we set off at a brisk pace on our journey to his camp.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was high in the sky when we arrived at the French encampment. I don't know quite what I had been expecting, but what greeted my eyes was a surprise. In the center of the protected clearing were five tents. They were large, but experience told me that they could be set up or struck quickly at a moment's notice.

Around them, men sat or stood in small groups among an arsenal of various neatly stacked weapons. The men started excitedly whispering among themselves as we dismounted. Apparently, my appearance with Arnaut was causing quite a stir. Arnaut ignored the questioning stares of his men and called for his squire to attend the horse.

As the boy lead the massive animal away, what I at first took to be another squire approached. He was dressed in trewes and a hooded tunic and looked as if he'd been scrounging about the woods for a week, so grubby was he. Under the dirt, though, lay delicate features. The youth couldn't be much more than twelve years old, I thought, judging by the lack of developed muscles or facial hair.

Arnaut greeted him with a joyful embrace. It was obvious that the boy was close to him. The whispered a few furtive words to each other. The boy seemed rather agitated. I began to suspect that perhaps they shared an affair of the heart, as knights' using young boys to slake their carnal desires was quite common in this day and age. Finally, Arnaut turned to me and extended his arm in an invitation for me to join them.

As I stepped forward, he performed introductions. "Lady Philippa, may I present my sister, Claire. Claire, Lady Philippa Mortimer of…" He trailed off, obviously expecting me to supply my place of origin.

Not willing to supply him with the name of a country that wouldn't be even dreamed of for more than four hundred years, I gave him the name "Land across the Vast Sea". It was the best I could come up with, considering my surprise at discovering what I thought was a rather grubby boy was, in fact, Lady Claire, the martyr of La Rocque. It would be her death at Lord Oliver's hands that would inspire the French into such berserker style battle frenzy that they'd take La Rocque in one night. And I stood, face to face with her.

I dropped into a deep curtsy before her. She turned her gaze to me. I felt as if I were being inspected and was just shy of passing. She gave me a quick nod and turned her attention back to Arnaut.

"I meant it, Arnaut. She will be a distraction to the men. Not to mention the danger to her."

"You're being ridiculous, Claire. You live here and the men are not distracted by you. Nor has your safety among them ever been in question." Arnaut argued.

"I'm hardly a distraction looking like this. Besides, I'm your sister. Every last one of them knows what the penalty would be for accosting me. This lady has no such protection. You must either send her away or give her the protection she needs."

"She has no place else to go, Claire."

"Then you have no choice, Arnaut. I'll go fetch Father Louis."

She quickly turned and ran off toward one of the tents. Arnaut turned to me and took my hands in his. His eyes gazed tenderly into mine. "Mam'selle, I must apologize. Claire says that I don't think things through properly. A character flaw of a warrior. It seems that in order to offer you my protection, I must also offer you my name. We are to be married as soon as Father Louis is prepared."

"What?" I was shocked. "You can't be serious. There must be another way."

"I understand your reticence. Assuredly, I am nowhere near your rank. But, I assure you that it is necessary. As my wife, no man will dare to touch you."

"My Lord Arnaut, your rank or standing is of no consequence to me. I simply cannot marry a man I only met a few hours ago."

"My Lady, I have no place safe to send you. To remain here in safety, this must be done. I'll not have the men thinking that you are my mistress. Besides, you're not French and if we are not joined in marriage, some may suspect you of spying. I'll not have any harm come to you in my camp. Please accept the protection that I offer you, for my sake?" He knelt on one knee before me. "Lady Philippa, please consent to be my bride." He continued to hold my hands as his deep green eyes held my own eyes.

How could any woman resist a proposal like that? It was the kind of thing we read about in cheap, trashy, historical romance novels, and then dream about it really happening. I couldn't think rationally. All my mind and heart and soul and body were focused on the incredibly sexy man kneeling in front of me. Before I could even form the thought, I heard myself whisper "Yes."

Yes? Oh, God, what have I done? He's medieval; I'm modern. I'm hoping to be rescued and leave this place and time. And will he expect it to be a real marriage? I mean I can see myself easily falling in love with him. Who wouldn't? But how does he feel about me? How could either of us know how we feel? We only met a few hours ago.

But some sort of women's intuition told me he'd keep me safe and that all would be as it should. I somehow knew that he'd never mistreat me. Something inside me just knew that inside the battle-hardened warrior was a tender, gentle and loving heart. I had seen how he was with his sister. I was convinced that he'd be that way with me.

As he rose to his feet, I saw Lady Claire returning with a slightly pudgy middle-aged man in friar's robes. Arnaut laid a hand on my shoulder as Claire and the priest joined us. The weight of his hand was reassuring. It had the effect of calming my nerves.

Arnaut introduced me to Father Louis. I dipped a small curtsey to him, as was proper for the time period.

We moved into the large center pavilion. A few men were called to join us as witnesses. The ceremony itself didn't take long. Arnaut spoke his vows clearly and firmly in his deep voice. I repeated mine softly, with a slight tremor. It was all rather surreal. Before I knew it, Father Louis was telling Arnaut that he may kiss his bride.

Hadn't I wondered about exactly this in the woods near Castleguard? Arnaut's

Lips gently touched mine. It was the tenderest caress I'd ever known. It was like drinking cool, clear, sweet water after a long day in the desert. I lost my heart to him in that very instant. I kissed him back with wild abandon. There was a moment that he seemed a bit surprised, and then he wrapped his strong arms around me and deepened our kiss. I felt his tongue brush across my upper lip tentatively asking admittance. My lips parted slightly under his and our tongues met in the ancient dance of seduction.

We were lost in our own little world of sensual sensation when the sound of Father Louis' exaggerated coughing brought us back to reality. Arnaut reluctantly released me. But he stayed next to me and laid his arm across my shoulders as Father Louis offered us his congratulations. Next, Claire stepped up to me and kissed me on my cheeks.

"Welcome to our family, my sister." She smiled.

"Thank you, Lady Claire. You are most kind to me."

"We will have your wedding supper at sunset. Until then, I'll leave you and Arnaut alone. I have many things to see to concerning the food." Claire kissed Arnaut on his cheeks and warned him to be kind and gentle with me. I blushed deeply and she turned and winked at me before she strode off to see to the supper preparations.

Arnaut guided me to the edge of the camp where a narrow path led into the woods. "Shall we walk and get better acquainted?" He asked me.

"Please." I answered.

Hand in hand, we followed the path for a while in companionable silence. After a short time, we entered a small grassy clearing. Wild flowers splashed their vibrant colors among the green of the grass. The sun dappled the ground through the leaves of the trees around the small meadow. I inhaled a deep breath of the fresh, unpolluted, springtime air and sighed contentedly.

Arnaut removed his cloak and spread it on the ground for us to sit on. Following the chivalrous code of good manners, he didn't lower himself to the ground beside me until I was comfortably seated with the skirts of my gown spread around me.

"Lady Philippa," he began.

I held up a hand to stop him. If we were married, then he may as well call me by my real name. "Please, call me Pippin."

"Pippin?"

"Yes, it's like a pet name that my mother called me. I rather prefer it to Philippa."

"Very well. As you wish." He agreed. "I know that this has been unusual in the complete lack of courtship. I know that for myself, I would not have wished such a hasty marriage. But I will do my best to be a good husband to you. I protect what is mine."

"Thank you, milord. I truly appreciate your protection and the great sacrifice that you were compelled to make to give it to me. I will do my best to be a good wife to you, but you'd best be warned, I can think for myself. I know that I promised to obey you, but I can obey no one blindly. If there is something you wish or need of me, I would know the reason before I can agree. And sometimes, I may disagree. Can you live with a woman who has a mind and a will of her own?" It was a lot to ask of a medieval man used to being obeyed without question. I wouldn't have been surprised if he balked and insisted on his noble rights. I anxiously awaited his reply.

He intently looked me over from my skirt covered feet to my head. When his green eyes met the straightforward, unyielding gaze of my own blue ones, he smiled and began to chuckle.

"I see that my sister's instincts are better than my own. Madam, I knew that you were no wilting flower when I saw you at Castleguard. I watched you cleverly make your way out of the village so that you wouldn't arouse suspicion. I knew that you were brave because you showed no fear of me. I would not have you any way other than the way you are. I am used to women who think and argue. You did meet my sister, did you not?"

I smiled remembering my meeting with Claire a scant few hours ago. She was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Her tiny body and delicate features cleverly hid a will of iron. Somehow she had bullied Arnaut into marriage with a woman he barely knew.

"You have a beautiful smile, Pippin." Arnaut reached out and gently stroked my cheek. He had removed his gloves while my mind was wandering and the touch of his bare skin on mine was electrifying. I sighed contentedly. His hand was warm on my face. I wanted to touch him in return. I tentatively reached out and laid my hand against his face. He clasped his hand over mine and held it there for a moment. When he released my hand, he kissed me. It was soft, tender and gentle, yet seeking and yearning. I returned it and passion flared between us.

Our kiss became more demanding. Our tongues danced together as Arnaut's hand brushed down my neck to stroke and cup my breasts through my gown. My nipples became immediately erect as the strangest feeling of want and desire settled into the pit of my stomach and lower. I moaned in ecstasy as Arnaut pressed my back against the ground. My arms snaked around his neck as my hips pressed against his thigh.

Arnaut broke our kiss. His breathing was as ragged as mine as he gazed intently into my eyes. He seemed to be searching for something, seeking an answer to some deep, dark question in his heart or soul. Finally, he spoke, "Will you be my wife, Pippin?"

I was a bit confused. Hadn't we been married only an hour or so before? "I am your wife," I answered him.

"'Tis true that we are joined in the eyes of God, but I would know if you would be my true wife, in every way. Would you give me your heart and take mine into your keeping in return? Will you allow our souls and bodies to become as one? Will you be my wife, not just in name, but in truth?"

"Arnaut," I whispered, "You have had my heart since the moment that I first gazed upon your face. I became yours to command at that very instant. I never in my life believed in love at first sight. I always thought it a terrible cliché. But I'm sure now that it's possible and that it's happened. I hope that I haven't offended you, but everything I've observed about you has touched my heart and soul. I cannot help but long for you to touch my body."

"I must admit it was so with me, also. I had begun to despair of ever finding a woman worthy of my love and my name. Claire always told me that she was out there somewhere and when I found her I would know in an instant. I knew it today. Claire apparently knew it, too. You are my woman. You are my heart. You are the missing piece of my soul. I've felt complete and at peace ever since I met you."

He kissed me again and the passion reignited. All I wanted, all I could think of was Arnaut and how he could complete me. I wanted it more than I wanted anything in my entire life. My mind went blank and my body took over. I pressed myself wantonly against Arnaut, wishing desperately that he weren't wearing armor. I wanted everything that he was offering and I wanted it now.

Arnaut seemed to understand. He leisurely dragged his hand down my body to gather the skirts of my gown in his hand. He raised them up so that he had free access to the hidden secrets that lay between my thighs. (At last I saw the sense in the lack of panties.) And yet, his touch first went to my stomach. His fingertips brushed across my navel. I burned with the flame of desire as his hand slid down to the triangle of dark hair at the apex of my thighs. His hand gently cupped my privates and I gasped in anticipation of what was to come.

"Ah, my Pippin. You are so beautiful, so passionate. I am truly blessed this day." Arnaut whispered in my ear.

His fingers began to stroke the inside of my thigh. My skin tingled as I felt sensations I'd never felt before. The pit of my stomach felt heavy. My privates ached. My head felt as if it were swimming. The entire world had disappeared except for this man and what he was doing to me. I felt the first touch of his hand against the nub of my womanhood and almost came up off the cloak I was laying on. I'd never been touched this way in my life, and yet it felt so right. Arnaut's finger dipped inside my passage, gathering my body's natural lubricant and returned to my clitoris.

"Oh, my love, you're so tight. I can't wait until I can fully make you mine."

"Oh, God, Arnaut. Now, please now."

"No, my love. There are rules we must observe. I can have you tonight. For now, I just give you your woman's pleasure."

His fingers left my body and I felt a terrible sense of loss. I was staring up at the blue sky, but not really seeing anything. Suddenly, I felt a new sensation. I looked down to see Arnaut's head between my thighs. I realized that the rough yet gentle touch on my clitoris was his tongue. Oh, heavens! I was dying. Could one die of pleasure? I felt on the edge of fainting when my vision went black for a second as the dam burst and I experienced my first orgasm. My hips bucked against Arnaut's face uncontrollably and I screamed my pleasure to the trees.

Arnaut sat up and wiped his beard. He lay down next to me and held me close as I slowly began to calm. I lay trembling in his arms for some time while he stroked my hair and whispered endearments.

"Is that what it will be like tonight?" I asked when I was finally able to speak.

"I shall do my best to make it so," he smiled.

"I've always heard that it hurts terribly."

"Ah," he said, understanding my true question. "It will be your first time, Pippin?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"I will not lie to you. There probably will be some pain. But, I will take care to prepare you and please you first. That will make the pain less. And later, once you're used to me, you will feel pleasure again."

Neither of us wanted to move, but the sun was beginning to sink. It was time for us to return to the camp for our wedding supper. Arnaut stood and helped me to rise from the ground. As soon as I was standing, I threw my arms around him and kissed him deeply. He held me to him and returned my kiss. When our embrace broke, he picked up his cloak and gently wrapped it around me. I leaned against him and he laid his arm around my shoulders. Reluctantly, we left our private sanctuary and returned down the path to the camp.


	5. Chapter 5

Dusk was falling as we approached the hive of activity that was the French encampment. Claire had apparently been very busy during our absence. Tables were set up in the center of the camp in a U shape. Wonderful smells of food in the final stages of cooking were wafting from the fires. I suddenly realized that I hadn't eaten since morning as my stomach growled. Arnaut chuckled at my body's audible display of hunger.

Claire looked up from where she was arranging a bouquet of flowers on the head table at the center of the arrangement. She had cleaned up and changed into a gown and looked absolutely stunning. She smiled as she approached us.

"Welcome back. Arnaut, I will see to Philippa. She will wish to freshen up and change before we dine." She led me to a tent that had been set up near the edge of the camp, slightly set apart from the others.

"This will be yours and Arnaut's. If there is anything that you need, please tell me and I will have it provided for you."

The large tent was divided into two rooms. One had a couple of chairs and a table in it. The other contained a standard medieval rope bed and several trunks and a long, low table. I judged the bed to be about the size of a modern day queen size. I touched the bed covers and discovered that they were silk. On the table sat a pitcher of steaming water, a bowl and a linen cloth. It wouldn't be a bath, but at least I'd be able to wash up.

Claire pointed out a trunk at the head of the near side of the bed. "That one is for you."

"Claire, that's very sweet, but I have nothing to put in it. I escaped with only the clothes I am wearing."

"It's already full, Philippa. The few women in camp and I made some clothes for you. It's not much, only 3 days worth of clothes, but you'll have something clean and pretty to put on for dinner."

I opened the chest to view the miracle that Claire and the other women had wrought. There were two plain lined under gowns, one of dark green and the other a pale rose. Two sleeveless over gowns, one of a pale leaf green and another of deep burgundy matched these. The third outfit, though, took my breath away. The under gown was a pale sky blue of silk. The over gown was of a French blue silk with white embroidered fleur de lis around the neck. It was an ensemble fit for a fairy tale princess. Besides these garments, there were also five thin chemises to wear next to my body. (This made the more expensive clothing last longer.) The last item was a beautiful night-rail of silk in the same sky blue as the under gown. It was billowy and trimmed in finely crafted lace. It wasn't sexy by twenty-first century standards, but I imagined that the medieval man might find it so.

My eyes welled with tears at the thoughtfulness that Claire and the other women had shown in seeing to it that I would feel extra pretty on my wedding night. I hugged Claire in gratitude and whispered "Thank you," in her ear while I desperately tried to keep from embarrassing myself with an even more emotional display.

"No, Philippa, thank you. I was beginning to despair of Arnaut. He needed a woman who could stand on her own two feet. I knew when I saw you that you would be perfect. You won't be ruled by him, nor will you try to rule him. And, I think, that you already begin to love him, yes?"

Did it show so much, already? "Yes, Claire. I love him already. He is the piece of my soul that I hadn't realized was missing until I found him. I am his, as I hope that he will be mine."

"Oh, he will. He loves you already, too, though he may not admit it as readily as you." Claire laughed. "Now, I leave you to wash and dress. If you need help with your laces, I'll be nearby. You need only call for me. Once you're ready, I'll escort you to your wedding supper."

Claire left the tent and I poured some of the hot water into the large bowl. I found some soft, fragrant soap on the table near the pitcher and washed. Once I was rinsed and dry, I dressed in the lovely silk dress. It was as near to a wedding dress as I would get. The cut of it was perfect for my figure. It was fitted through the bodice and sleeves with a very full skirt. The over gown was also fitted, though not quite as tightly and had a slight train. I wished desperately for a full-length mirror, but as glass was rare in this time, there was no hope of finding one.

I released my hair from its customary braid and ran my fingers through it to comb it out. I had no other means of restraining my long auburn tresses, so I decided to leave it loose and flowing to my waist. The braid had caused my hair to hang in soft waves and I imagined that the effect would be flattering.

I was about to leave the tent, when Claire barged back in. "I almost forgot these. The cobbler just finished them." She held up a pair of exquisite, dainty slippers made of the same French blue as my over gown. They had the same embroidered fleur de lis on them and thin leather soles.

She handed them to me and I clasped them to my chest. "They're beautiful." I told her. "I'll feel just like Cinderella."

"Who's that?" she asked.

Oh, yeah, the Brothers Grimm wouldn't be born for another four hundred years. "She was a princess in a bedtime tale I once heard. She had special shoes."

I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed my sturdy leather shoes. I slipped the dainty blue slippers onto my feet. I stood up and lifted my skirts slightly to see how they looked on me. I was quite pleased by the effect.

Claire and I stepped outside. Arnaut had been busy in my absence. He had washed and shaved. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair had been carefully brushed. He had changed out of his armor and now wore hose and a doublet a dark forest green. The color was perfect for his complexion and made his eyes all the more striking.

I smiled at him and walked to where he stood behind the seats of honor at the center of the head table. I curtsied to him and he bowed to me. The populace of the camp was already gathered and standing behind their chairs at the tables. Arnaut pulled my chair out for me and I sat in the high backed wooden chair. He then sat next to me on my left and gestured for everyone else to take their seats. Claire was seated to my right, and Father Louis was to Arnaut's left.

The stewards began filling wine glasses and the first course of bread, butter, cheese and a pottage of pea soup were served. The talk around the table was lively and I soon noticed that the war with the British wasn't being mentioned. I turned to Claire and asked about this.

She smiled as she told me that she had warned the man that this was a celebration and that it would curse Arnaut and myself for them to speak of anything other than happy things. I thanked her for her thoughtfulness. It wasn't that I believed in curses and such. I was just heartily sick and tired of everything revolving around this stupid war. I felt sorry for the others whose entire lives had known nothing but war with the English.

Arnaut gently touched my arm to bring me out of my dark reverie. I turned to him and smiled H smiled back and then bent to whisper in my ear. "Eat, my love. You will need your strength."

My heart pounded in my chest and my cheeks blushed red as the memory of the afternoon flooded my mind. The pit of my stomach felt as if an entire flock of butterflies had taken up residence in it. I wished that the tedious meal were over.

Arnaut chuckled at my blush. He reached over and squeezed my hand reassuringly. I smiled back at him and he leaned over and gently kissed me.

Oh, how I wanted to fan the flames, but the raucous cheers of our fellow campmates sharply curtailed any encouraging response from me.

The second course was set in front of us and I pretended to immerse myself in the dining experience. The roast fowl was seasoned to perfection and served on a bed of herbed rice. This was followed by a sort of stew of beef and gravy served in bread trenchers. Dessert was a custard that reminded me very much of crème brulee.

Once the dishes were cleared away, some men brought out small instruments. The impromptu band began playing lively music. Other men claimed the few other women in camp and began a complicated dance. It was beautiful to watch.

I looked over at Arnaut to see him watching me intently. "Do you wish to join the dance?" he asked me.

"Oh, no. I don't know the steps. I'd rather watch."

We watched for some time before Claire left the circle of dancers and came to me. "It's time to prepare you for bed." She told me.

I followed her to the tent that I would share with Arnaut. There, the others had been busy. At some point in time, they had strewn dried flower petals on the floor and lit several candles. A small hipbath had been set up and was filled with steaming petal-strewn water. A cake of floral scented soap was on a table nearby along with a washcloth and towel.

I climbed in the water and sighed at the pleasure of the simple bath. It was only my second bath since arriving in this time and it felt like heaven. I took my time as I washed my body. Claire and another woman washed and rinsed my russet colored hair and then helped me to dry as I stood and exited the bath. I couldn't help being a bit sorry that it was over.

They dressed me in the pale blue night-rail. The silk made me tingle as it slid across my skin. I couldn't help wishing that it were Arnaut's hands. My hair was brushed until it was dry and the coppery strands glowed in the candlelight. They turned down the sheets and tucked me into the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

I waited patiently until Arnaut joined me in the tent. I sat up in the bed and smiled shyly at him.

"Ah, my lovely Pippin. Your beauty dims the stars and puts the rose to shame."

He stood next to the bed and leaned over me. He cupped my chin with one of his large hands and held it so I faced him. He said nothing and moved not a muscle for some time. Finally, his head slowly descended and his lips tenderly brushed mine. His kiss was feather soft. His lips tasted of the sweet wine that had been served with dessert. Oh, how like an alcoholic I felt. That taste was nowhere near enough.

Arnaut broke our kiss and stepped away from the bed. He removed his doublet, hose and linen undershirt and stood before me in all his naked glory. I felt a shiver run up my spine and my nether parts tingle. My God, he's gorgeous! Wearing all that armor apparently built some serious muscles. As we'd say in the twenty-first century, he was ripped with six-pack abs. A light dusting of dark hair spread across his chest. To put it simply, he was one hell of a fine specimen of a male of the human species!

My gaze fell lower and I felt my heart thump against my chest wall as I got my first look at a man in the aroused state. Now I became nervous. Good grief, are all men that large? And that's supposed to fin inside me? Yeah, right! There's no way!

Arnaut must have sensed my anxiety as he slid into the bed next to me. He made no move to initiate any kind of sex act. He simply gathered me into his arms and held me close to him.

I lay in his gentle embrace listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. My anxiety began to fade and was replaced by a feeling of security and belonging. Instead of fearing the consummation of the marriage vows, I began to wish that Arnaut would just do it. Finally, I couldn't stand the waiting any longer. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed my body to his and kissed him full and deep.

When our kiss broke, he chuckled softly. "I knew that you would tell me when you were ready, my sweet Pippin." Then his lips were on mine again as his hands freely roamed over every inch of my naked body. Soon, his mouth followed his hands and he left my skin feeling as though I were on fire every place his kisses fell. My face, my neck, my breasts, my stomach all received attention from his lips. "Oh, God, yes, please, there again", I thought as he spread my thighs and once again assaulted my most sensitive area with his tongue.

I felt I was near the edge of a cliff. I wanted to jump. I moved closer and closer to the precipice, but couldn't quite manage to throw myself over the edge. Then Arnaut slipped one of his large fingers into my tight passage. The internal combined with the external stimulation proved more than my body could bear and I came violently, sobbing his name over and over.

Arnaut acted quickly. He was immediately up on his knees and I felt the probing of his manhood seeking entry. I was still in the throes of my orgasm when he slid his shaft home into me, seating himself to the hilt and tearing through my maidenhead. Then he held absolutely still. I felt some discomfort as I stretched to accommodate him but no true pain.

Soon, even the discomfort began to fade and Arnaut began to move within me. He propped himself on his elbows above me and began kissing my face, ears and neck. He murmured in my ear, "My love, my Pippin, my wife."

Before too long, my body's instincts took over and I eagerly met his thrusts. My hands roamed everywhere I could reach. His broad back and chest were mine to explore and caress. We relished in the ancient rhythm of love's dance and when I peaked again, he joined me with a might roar as he spilled himself within me.

I was too tired to even think. He once again gathered me into his arms and held me as I slowly floated back to Earth. I reached up and caressed Arnaut's face and kissed him. "Thank you." I whispered.

"No, Pippin. Thank you. You have given me a most precious gift. I am truly blessed to have you for my wife." He dropped a quick kiss on my forehead. "But, now, we should get you cleaned up."

I realized what he was talking about as my brain registered the stickiness between my thighs. I moved to rise and wash up, but Arnaut stopped me. "No, stay here, my sweet. I shall attend to you."

The first thing he did rather bewildered me. He balled up the sheet beneath us in his hand and wiped my privates with it and pulled it tight once again across the bed. Then he crossed to the bowl and pitcher of water across the tent. He poured some water into the bowl and wetted the cloth. He gently cleansed me and returned the cloth to the water and rinsed it. He tossed the soiled water out the tent flap and retuned to the bed. Once I was again in his arms, the length and events of the day came crashing down on me and I yawned in exhaustion. We cuddled up together and were soon fast asleep.


End file.
